A Lesson in Self-Defense
by ShipperWriter
Summary: After a negotiation goes awry, Elizabeth begins learning how to defend herself. But her stance on violence makes her question if she's doing the right thing after all. Sparky friendship. Takes place during Season 3. Oneshot.


**Title**: A Lesson in Self-Defense

**A/N**: I originally sat down, wanting to write something for "Agents of SHIELD", but my head is still spinning from Tuesday night's episode so that's not happening. Instead, I decided to return to Sparky for a much-needed Elizabeth-centric self-defense scene that was serious. So this isn't as fluffy as I wanted.

Sorry.

Have fun.

Takes place during Season 3.

* * *

_"I don't even call it violence when it's in self defense; I call it intelligence_." - Malcolm X

* * *

Jab. Cross jab. Right hook. Keep your hands up.

Elizabeth Weir recited these instructions in her head, fists making contact with the tough exterior of the punching bag. The pain made her want to draw back, unwrap the bandages, and finish up reports.

The previous mission kept her going.

"Keep your hands up. That's the most important thing."

John's voice echoed in her ears, recalling their last workout before the mission to M4R-946. She was to accompany SGA-1 on a meet and greet with a group of villagers who had expressed interest in an alliance with Atlantis, more for their own protection than anything.

Unfortunately, the team arrived just as one of the villagers decided to stage a revolt.

Elizabeth forced all her energy into her shoulders as her fists pummeled the bag one more time, then found herself recoiling back after the last hit which may have broken a bone. She cradled her left hand and turned it over carefully, examining it for any tell-tail signs of injury.

Aside from the small bruises that would gradually grow to match the one on her face, she was fine.

So she kept going.

She and Teyla had been separated from the men, but upon recognizing that Teyla was Athosian and a native of this galaxy, they turned her attention to Elizabeth. The brute force of their attackers astonished her, left her completely off guarded, and she hated it. Everything that she had learned about how to defend herself seemed to fade away when the guard began punching her in the gut. Apparently, they figured that watching the weaker one get beat up would dissolve the resolve of the guys.

But the team had been through this once before. If a Wraith sucking the life out of John Sheppard wouldn't force Elizabeth to give in to the Genii's demands, then witnessing the crap being beaten out of Elizabeth wouldn't induce John to give up the Gate address for Atlantis.

So she kept biting her lip, almost to the point of drawing blood, and shut her eyes until the door would open and a guard would yank her back into a cell.

The beating could have been worse, as could the entire situation.

Then Lorne and his team showed up unexpectedly.

Sheppard, McKay, and Ronon walked back through the Stargate into Atlantis, following Teyla and Elizabeth who were leaning on each other for support.

Three days later, Carson had released her back to active duty with the strict instructions to take it easy.

An hour later, after the sun went down over the horizon line of the ocean, Elizabeth found herself alone in the gym.

She stepped back for a moment, looking at the bandages on her hands. Her left hand was beginning to turn a painful shade of purple.

So she tightened the wrapping and punched harder.

* * *

John watched her from the open doorway, jabbing the punching bag to the point where he felt more sorry for it than for her. He knew that violence was deplorable to her, even when it was the last resort. The memory of Phebus taking over her body while on the hunt for Thalen was an embarrassment for her - embarrassment at the thought of firing at someone she considered a friend, much less holding an actual gun.

But after her brutal beating on 946, she seemed to have had a change of heart, and she had taken matters into her own hands.

Bantos training with Teyla didn't seem to be enough.

She had been in here for a while, judging from the sweat stains visible on the back of her grey racer back yoga shirt. Her feet were firmly planted on the mat, legs taut as she leaned into each punch. Her hair, which normally hung elegantly down her shoulders, was pulled back into a thoughtless pony-tail, whipping each time she twisted her body.

He repressed a sigh, but only slightly.

Then he walked into the room.

"Give the punching bag a break," he said quietly by way of greeting. "I don't think it's done anything to deserve that."

Elizabeth stood back, arms at her sides, looking determined and jittery at the same time. "Yeah, well, neither did I. But here we are."

Despite the lights being on dim, the purple bruise on her left cheekbone was impossible to miss.

It almost made him sick to his stomach.

"That shouldn't have happened," was all he could offer as she turned back around to face the bag.

Elizabeth scoffed.

"No, I didn't mean that it's your fault. I would never blame something on you that's out of your control."

As she started letting jabs fly again, John sighed and walked to the other side, bracing himself against the bag, forcing Elizabeth to exert herself more. "What I meant is that we should've scoped out the village better. We went there based on the word of one man. You should've never been put in that situation."

"John," she replied with a ragged breath, "this isn't your fault either. Stop second-guessing yourself. It shouldn't have happened, I agree, but it also could have been worse." She delivered one more punch to the bag before stepping back, letting her breath catch up to her. "As much as I dislike the idea, I do need to learn to protect myself better. It shouldn't be incumbent solely on the team to watch my back when I'm offworld."

John nodded in agreement. "What about firearms training?"

"I will do the minimum, but I will never carry one."

"All right," he replied, holding up a hand. "What about a stunner?"

She cocked her head. "That, I can do."

"Tomorrow night?"

She nodded at him. "All right. But tonight, I want to finish this."

Judging by the mild swelling of both hands, taking up boxing for two hours was not a good idea on your first try. But John knew that her determination would outweigh anything he might say to dissuade her.

So he braced himself against the punching bag, absorbing shock after shock as he continued.

* * *

"I hate this, you know."

They had paused for a water break. John finally had convinced her to give the bag a break and to try some actual one-on-one combat. After a few slaps to the head had almost escalated into a well-timed punch at his nose, he called for a time out.

Elizabeth looked slightly embarrassed, catching her breath after her admission. "I really don't want to be doing this. I have absolutely no desire to hurt another human being." She shook her head, then sat on the bench in front of the window. "That's why I fought for so long again nuclear weapons proliferation. It didn't just start with a chemistry experiment gone wrong in high school. It began when someone pulled a gun on someone else to defend themselves."

"I get it. I mean, I didn't join the military to shoot down bad guys. But if they threaten what I stand for or point a rifle at my head, then yeah. I'm gonna defend myself by whatever means necessary." John walked over and took a seat next to her. "That doesn't mean I feel good about myself when it happens."

"But that is what you signed up for. You knew your job might require you to hurt or kill someone." She shook her head, chuckling mirthlessly. "But for a diplomat-slash-political science teacher at Georgetown, this was the farthest thing from my mind."

"Hate to break it to you, Dorothy, but you're not in Kansas anymore," John replied, standing slowly. "Pacifism isn't always going to work out here. But," he added, pausing for a moment, "that doesn't mean that I'm gonna tell the Marines to back off your six when you're offworld."

She shook her head. "I appreciate that. It's just… it's strange how one random incident can completely alter your stance on something that you've believed in for so long. It's a little unsettling, to be honest."

John hummed his understanding. "I had this one professor in college. Big fan of Malcolm X. Had different quotes printed out, posted around the room. I don't think there was a day that went by when he didn't use one of them."

"Let me guess: one principle applies here," Elizabeth replied, smiling a little.

He returned it. "'Nonviolence is fine'," he quoted.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"'As long as it works'."

She continued punching the bag, long after John had gone to bed.

* * *

A month later, a villager misinterpreted her kind remarks as a come-on and grabbed her wrist a little too tightly.

She threw a punch so hard, he started bleeding before he hit the ground.

Elizabeth disappeared soon thereafter. When John found her again, she was sunk down against the base of a large tree, sobbing in disgust at herself.

The punching bag never saw her again.

* * *

_Fin._

**A/N**: This is a bit of a departure of the usual story that I write, but I hope you liked it!


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